Tainted Intrigue
by Chocolate Cheese
Summary: Friendship takes a backseat to Romance, and in love there are no backseat drivers. But being a third wheel has its advantages: if the other wheel gets a puncture, you’re the spare. That was his theory, he never counted on being found with the knife...
1. Prologue: The End

**Ramblings:**

I really shouldn't start this one until I've finished Puppy Love, but I just couldn't let the plot bunny go homeless!

Oh, this one is a little...umm...volatile, to say the least. Warnings include slash, character death (oooh...I wonder who it will be this time...), a teensy weensy bit of language, some violence and a lot of law-breaking. Pairings include SetoJou (come one-sided, some not one sided)and SetoHonda. Oh, by the way, I do not and never will own Yugioh, and I really don't mind...

The story is set 5 years on from the series finale, meaning people are aged between about 20 and 22.

Well, enough talking, here is the prologue...

* * *

"Do you have anything to say in response to the facts read by the prosecutor?"

Presiding Judge Saruwatari Takumi had recited this necessity countless times before: almost every day for the past ten years, in fact. It was hard for him to recall a day when he hadn't, despite the fact that a day when he didn't might actually interest him. It wasn't that he found such a job boring; no, he was honored to be a Judge, especially a presiding judge. It was just that since he had started his job, he had been working the same cases over and over again, partially because some of the cases he worked, more often than not petty theft, went on for weeks longer than they really should. It was amazing the lawyers that these criminals could afford, despite the rather unprofitable nature of their work…

Why, just last month Takumi had been faced with a rather frustrating case against a woman who had been found guilty of stealing tobacco from the local market: she managed to get hold of the man considered fourth best lawyer in Japan, and probably would have escaped her sentence had it not been for a torrent of witnesses and a suspiciously large amount of Tobacco found stashed in her attic.

He almost smiled remembering the episode; however the situation unfolding in front of him was not something he should have been smiling about: today was probably going to be the most important case of his career.

Takumi had been shocked to the point of almost choking to death on his lunch, which that day happened to be Ramen, when he had been informed of the case he had at the same time next week: he hadn't had Ramen of any form since.

Takumi sat at the front, or back, of the courtroom, depending on whom and where you were. Either way, he was sitting atop a large redwood chair, partially enclosed by a small wooden booth. To either side of him were the two Associate judges. About three meters forward of them, the defense counsel and public prosecutor sat in their opposing boxes, the Defense counsel to his left; the Prosecutor to his right. Directly in front of Takumi, there was a smaller, lower booth housing the Clerk and his suitcase filled with forensic tools and evidence, and the Stenographer, her hands poised over the keys of her typewriter, waiting for words.

At the moment, Takumi was not concerned about the other inhabitants of the courtroom: certainly not his colleagues or the lawyers. Even the spectators were disinteresting to him, despite some of the prolific, often infamously so, faces he could recognize in the crowd.

At the moment, all Takumi could see was a boy standing across the courtroom.

He was young, reasonably tall and had long vivid blonde hair that evidently hadn't been properly brushed for weeks. Even in his fitting black suit he looked scruffy: he sported a plain white blouse, only partially tucked into his trousers. He had the top button undone, and there was no evidence of a tie anywhere on his person. He was fiddling, presumably out of nerves, with his hands. However, his face looked anything but nervous: it was as hard as a rock, concentrated and determined. Takumi had seen this before, especially when it came to Financial Fraud cases where the accused was often righteous and egotistical; but it was the intensity of the blonde's eyes that differentiated him from the rest: they were honey brown, flashing with the same tenacity found in his face and, unlike the usual guilty cowards Takumi faced, they were looking directly into his, not a trace of fear or regret to diminish the sparkle.

It was an ardent gaze that unnerved Takumi somewhat: yet it also gave him the comfort of knowing that the boy hadn't committed the awful crime of which he was accused: how could a guilty party look so confident?

Suddenly, Takumi's attention was diverted from the boy's eyes, and to his own ears. The boy spoke:

"The evidence is entirely correct,"

Takumi's train of thought stopped in its tracks: what did he just say?

Composing himself, the judge took a deep breath to speak, but a sound had barely passed his lips when the boy spoke again.

"I therefore plead guilty…"

Takumi opened his mouth to speak, but once again, the boy beat him to it:

"…To all charges,"

.:'':.

The smell of vomit was almost overpowering: you had to hold your nose every time you passed within a few yards of the first floor washroom, and that didn't stop your eyes from watering. Even opening your mouth caused some of the vulgar odor to enter your system, often causing severe retching and a trip to the clean bathroom downstairs to do some more, with a similarly pungent end result.

Despite the awful smell, the bathroom still needed cleaning, especially as the regurgitations had been fermenting in it for the last three days. It wasn't an impossible task: it was just really, really hard to bring yourself to even approach the room, and it required a large amount of pleasant things to sniff afterwards. Besides, those inhabiting the house really had no time to be cleaning, or doing anything else for that matter, and so had decided the abandon the corridor occupying the bathroom until further notice.

Apart from the increasingly unbearable stench of the first floor, the rest of the house was as normal as the largest house in Domino City could be. Almost directly beneath the offending bathroom lay the large, open plan kitchen and dining area.

Currently eating the first food he had had in 72 hours, Seto Kaiba was sitting in that very room, a cup of pitch black coffee in one hand, and a slightly nibbled, dry bagel in the other. He was sporting a fluffy royal blue bath robe with "KC" embroidered in gold on the hem, collar and cuffs. Apart from a pair of brilliant white boxer shorts, also embroidered with "KC", but in silver, he was wearing nothing underneath.

On the table in front of him was a pile of newspapers. He was picking them up one at a time, scanning the front covers, and occasionally grunting in mild distaste. There was a pile of discarded papers on the floor next to his stool.

Until he came across the penultimate newspaper in his pile, the most he had done was mutter something about a lawsuit or two. But after just one glance at the headline on the cover, his mug was sent flying across the kitchen, closely followed by his bagel. The mug hit the wall with an alarmingly loud crash as it broke into hundreds of pieces, sending white porcelain skidding across the floor.

Kaiba rose to his feet shakily, his eyes not leaving the paper in his hand for one second. Slowly, he bent down and retrieved the pile of papers from the floor.

He made his way out of the kitchen and down the parallel corridor, which lead to the front door. Upon reaching the monstrous white arch, he flung the doors open with his free hand, steadying the pile of newspapers in his arm with his right leg.

He marched out onto the front porch and staggered down the marble steps. There he dropped the newspapers, save the front cover of the top one, which he had somehow detached from the rest of the paper.

One last look at the emboldened words in the center of the page was enough to send the man to his knees. He cried out, angry tears streaming down his face. His voice was hoarse and worn, and, not only physically painful to experience, but emotionally wearing: this wasn't a note to shatter glass; this was a note to shatter hearts.

Screaming dissolved into abnormally loud growling, which in turn faded into dignified sobbing and hiccupping.

Kaiba rose to his feet and discarded the page to the wind. He watched for a moment as it floated and tumbled through the air, until it landed on ground and continued to roll calmly along the lawn to one side of the gravel driveway. Letting the tears continue fall from his eyes and roll down his cheeks undisturbed, he turned and made his way back indoors, silently closing the doors behind him.

Upon reaching the kitchen, he purposefully began to rummage through cupboards, pulling out various cleansing products, sponges, scrubbers and brushes, throwing them into a surprisingly neat pile in the center of the room. Donning a pair of yellow latex gloves, Kaiba gathered the pile of equipment and carried it out of the room, down the corridor again and up the spiraled staircase on the right of the main entrance lobby. He continued down another corridor, turned left past a recently abandoned bedroom of his and a similarly discarded office, which was devoid of light due to a distinct lack of window. He passed another two rooms with their doors closed.

Suddenly, as if he had been punched in the nose, Kaiba clumsily dropped his load and practically slapped himself in the face trying to cover his mouth and nose. His already wet eyes were stinging with tears. Once again, he retrieved the items from the floor, and continued to waddle down the hall, breathing through a sponge clenched in his teeth.

Of course, he was on the first floor: and the particular corridor he was traveling down was home to the soiled bathroom. Still, he soldiered on, just about managing to avoid breathing in the odor, instead being forced to inhale what smelled like a mixture of bleach and toothpaste, which he presumed, and hoped, was from the sponge.

This time, deliberately, Kaiba stopped and dropped his things outside a white door which was slightly ajar. With the sponge still in his mouth, he took a deep breath and entered the bathroom.

The worst thing about this room, he presumed, should have been the smell: but what he saw made the vulgar stench seem the most fragrant thing in the world, and maybe even worthy of its own perfume bottle.

Kaiba stifled a retch, and swallowed some vomit of his own that burned the back of his throat. The room looked like bomb had exploded: inside a human head. The walls, floor and occasionally even the ceiling were splashed with a now almost solid, grey, red and green substance, some of which lay in pools of yellow bile and what could only be described as blood. The toilet appeared to be the worst hit place: despite the evident poor aim of the vomit-tee, the toilet was covered in a congealed layer of the same Technicolor regurgitations. Upon closer inspection of the toilet bowl, sink and bath tub, Kaiba revised his earlier thoughts: several bombs had exploded, in several human heads.

He was crying again: not the silent, solemn tears of before, or the slight wetness caused by the awful stench. No, instead he was literally sobbing; taking shallow, sudden breaths, torrents of huge, round tears rolling down his cheeks, his sobs muffled by the sponge still in his mouth, which he promptly spat out. Suddenly, the anguish was replaced with anger.

"I'll kill him," He growled, "I'll kill him, just like he killed you,"

Kaiba flung open the door and picked up a bottle with a spray attachment. It was filled with a pale green liquid. Upon noticing the color, a smirk flickered into being in Kaiba's face.

"He loved pistachios: Nut allergy my ass."

* * *

Kaiba a bit Ooc, I hear you say? You'll understand why later. Please R&R: I like to hear your reactions, as long as they are justified.

C.c


	2. Chapter 1: Blonde in the Bistro

**Ramblings and other Randomness:**

Chapter 2: Yeah...

I confused the crud out of y'all with that last chapter, didn't I? Good. That's how it's meant to be. For those of you that reviewed, thankyou so much! I thouroughly enjoy hearing your guesses at what happens next also. I'm afraid to say I can't reveal if any of them are right yet. This chapter may clear a few earlier misconceptions up, but it still leaves a lot of loose threads...

Well, enjoy...

Banana nn

* * *

Spoon feeding: a technique generally employed to feed babies and small children. For some, it is the only viable way to get anything other than car keys and telephone cords into the mouth of your average 2 year old. However, the results are almost always somewhat disgusting: food on the floor, ceiling, table, face of the child, face of the parent, and, more often than not, remaining on the spoon. Still, if is it's the only way to feed a child, it must be done.

However, when it comes to adults and spoon feeding, you wouldn't think it necessary: not just for the reason that adults are mostly capable of feeding themselves, but because of the complete lack of dignity involved for both parties, and the inevitable barrage of stares from confused and often disgusted onlookers.

This didn't seem to be bothering a couple sitting outside one of Domino's various quaint little coffee shops. They were in their own little bubble, sitting at their little table, knocking knees under it, and spoon feeding each other whipped cream from the top of their hot chocolates. Occasionally, one would pick up a marshmallow or a pocky, dip it in the hot chocolate, bite it in half and then hand feed the remnants to the other person, letting their finger tips brush past their lips, ensuing in plenty of giggles and licking of lips.

Despite the sickly nature of public displays of affection, it was admittedly cute, and near heart warming to watch them sit there staring at each other; a view evidently shared by a group of girls who had taken up prime viewing position at a bistro across the road. Every time a spoon was lifted, they would go into hysterics and giggle in anticipation of more romantic activity.

The marshmallow move went down very well with the girls: lucky for them, the couple was too busy feeding each other to pay attention to the screams and flashes of cameras. The rest of the world seemed to be as disinterested as the couple, ignoring the girls, and often the pair themselves:

Except for one rather disgruntled looking blonde man sitting to the right of the screeching girls. He too appeared to be fixated on the couple; however his reaction to their activities was entirely different: silence.

One of the girls, a white blonde, noticed the man and followed his line of sight to the couple across the street. She raised a dark eyebrow, and was about to re-join her friends when the man she had been contemplating noticed her back.

"What're you looking at?" He snapped, his eyes still staring straight ahead at the couple, even as he addressed the girl to his left.

"You," She giggled, her voice deep and quite gruff for that of a woman, especially a blonde one: he was expecting a hamster-on-helium kind of noise to come out of her.

"And why would this be? I think it would be best if you return to your merry band of rabid fan girls to get cheap kicks from watching those two trying to have a nice romantic get-together. Or, even better, you could go and find someone else to stalk,"

"What do you think you're doing then?" She chided, scooting her chair over to his table.

"I am having a cup of morning coffee. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to continue enjoying it,"

"Ooooh, touchy," She chuckled again, "I like it,"

The blonde man shut his eyes and smirked.

"You know, you're the reason we natural blondes are labeled as dumb," He took a sip of his coffee and stretched his neck, "Do us all a favor and bleach that crap on your head again until it falls out, okay?"

"What's your name?" She asked, still smiling and chuckling. The blonde shook his head and motioned with his hand just where the insult had gone in reference to her head.

"Katsuya Jounouchi. My friends call me Jou, but you can just avoid calling me anything,"

.:'':.

After another half an hour of spoon feeding and adventurous gang attempts at avenging the earlier insults directed at their resident Barbie with an Action Man voice box, the girls finally got bored and vacated the bistro, their giggles fading into the traffic of the morning rush hour.

The couple remained, and so did their lone viewer. He sat inside the bistro on a plastic slate grey chair. On the round glass table in front of him were empty mugs. He had a fourth in his hands, and he was taking nervous sips of it from time to time. A plate of half eaten biscuits was placed precariously on the far edge of the table, a newspaper balanced between it and an empty mug.

The man looked tired: his face was pale; his brown eyes lined with black bags, his blonde hair unkempt and dirty. His redeeming features were gentle good looks and reasonably casual attire which, despite his un-tucked shirt and lack of tie, looked suitable for an office job. He was sitting with his legs crossed, his left hand fiddling with a rubber band, his right occupied with the mug.

Suddenly, the couple across the street got to their feet. One of them lifted several bags of shopping from their side of the table, while the other paid for the drinks.

The man in the bistro got to his feet as well: he poured the remnants of his drink into his mouth and slipped the rubber band onto his wrist, hiding it beneath the sleeve of his jacket. A bus boy cleaning up the mess left by the fan girls stopped his work and turned to the man.

"Sir, have you paid for-"

The blonde answered the boy by thrusting four 10, 000 yen bills into his surprised hand. He uttered a meek thank you, too shocked to bother mentioning the fact that the man had just paid four times what he should have for his coffee.

The couple had by now made their way a good hundred yards down the street, and Jou was following them as close as he could on the other side of the road. He was having to go quite quickly, and seemed to be causing a bit of commotion by displaying a complete disregard for other pedestrians.

They turned a corner, and Jou was forced to cross the street and walk behind them. They were quite far ahead, but as long as they were in clear view, Jou didn't really care how far away they were. He could see the pair very clearly: this street was a mere trickle compared to the river that was the main road going through the city center, flowing with endless streams of cars, trucks and people. It was literally empty, save the couple, Jou, and a black limousine parked up ahead.

Jou quickened his pace upon noticing the vehicle, and greatly decreased the distance between himself and the pair, who were now approaching the car.

One of them went around to the back of the car and opened the spacious trunk. The other piled some bags of shopping into it, before giving their partner a quick peck on the cheek and proceeding to the back door. Jou cringed, but continued to make his way towards the vehicle nonetheless.

He was literally meters away from the car when suddenly, the half of the pair standing by the boot, turned round, and saw Jou. Jou froze in his tracks.

"Mutt," Seto Kaiba snarled in vague acknowledgement, before closing the boot and walking around the car to join his partner.

"Hey Jou!" Honda Hiroto greeted cheerily, ironically slipping an arm around Kaiba's waist.

"Honda, Kaiba," Jou growled, nodding at them respectively.

"So, what brings the mutt down here? Not your usual area of town: a little expensive for you, isn't it?" The taller brunette jibed, reveling in Jou's reaction which, though subdued and almost defiant, was obvious one of annoyance.

"Leave him, Seto," Honda said, smiling, "So, Jou, what are you doing here?"

Jounouchi contemplated his response, before deciding not to bother.

"Well, I must be off," He said casually, squeezing past the entangled couple and continuing down the street, despite not knowing where the hell he was going.

"See you later Katsuya!" Honda called after him as Seto and himself entered the Limo.

"Good Riddance," Jou heard Kaiba mutter, almost as if he knew Jou was still in earshot.

Honda just laughed.

.:'':.

Upon discovering that the street he was traveling down was actually a dead end, Jou had retreated to his previous position at the bistro. He had ordered another mug of coffee, and had slid the rubber band down his fingers to proceed fiddling with it. It was now around six in the evening, and the sky was streaked with orange and pink. The remnants of the rush hour, not that there was much of one on a Sunday evening, were trickling by in small bursts which were becoming fewer the darker it became.

Jou sat in the Bistro for what seemed like forever. For him, this was a typical Sunday evening. That was, unless, Kaiba and Honda decided to take their love elsewhere.

The relationship between the two had been going strong for the past three months. Of course, being Honda's best friend, Jou knew otherwise…

It was about half way through Jounouchi's first year at Domino University. He hadn't really expected to get that far in education, but something had changed back in the last year of junior high which had, for some reason unknown to any of Jounouchi's classmates or teachers, who were frankly shocked, made him work harder.

Jou kept his reasons to himself, despite various attempts to get an answer out of him. He would always reply with the same answer:

"It's a change for the better; there is no need to know why it happened, just be glad that it did."

The words were somewhat of a sign that Jounouchi had finally blossomed: beneath all of his arrogance and obnoxious talk there hid an intelligent, wise man who had goals and dreams. Actually, Jou had always had goals: they just changed, that was all. Before Duel monsters, Jou wanted to be famous for something. The moment Yugi stepped into his life, he discovered exactly what he wanted to be known for: dueling. He managed to somewhat achieve this dream; however he was always in the shadow of Yugi, or the even larger shadow of Kaiba, in the dueling world.

It was his last year of senior high school when he really discovered where his talents lay. He had ended up doing a home economics class after school for reasons he once again refused to reveal to anyone. At first, he mocked the idea, fooling around in the class, almost never doing what he was told; that was until the first practical cookery lesson. They were making rice balls, the simplest of tasks, yet it was one Jounouchi had never really attempted: his diet consisted of burgers, fries and pocky. Despite this, he managed to perform the task, pretty much perfectly at that. The lessons that followed consisted mainly of fish based dishes (namely squid, which Jounouchi grew to love, not only for it's properties as a prospective projectile) and Dumplings, something Jou particularly enjoyed, as it was the only sweet thing they had made all semester.

Jou developed a love for cooking: making things had always been a talent for him, but never before had he considered making food part of that.

Because of this he had decided to take a Food Science undergraduate course, something that would hopefully propel him into the world of the culinary arts. Honda also enrolled at Domino University; he was also studying something unorthodox, as far as Jou was concerned: Animal Behavior science. Not that he wasn't cut out for it: he had some strange affinity with animals, especially dogs, and was a very gentle person once you got past his towering height and tough-guy haircut.

In fact, not only had Honda and Jou continued their education, but Yugi and Ryou Bakura had too. Anzu had finally earned enough money to study dance in New York, and had left at the beginning of the summer after graduation.

The only person in Jounouchi's class that hadn't enrolled at the University was Seto Kaiba. Of course, he didn't really need to, considering his multi million dollar corporation which was growing by the day. After graduating, he was no longer held back by the distractions of school work, and so could pour his efforts into the company. Kaiba-land Japan was holding its own: it was officially the most profitable theme park in all of Japan. Kaiba had scheduled to build his theme parks all over the world: America, Britain, Germany, France and even Egypt were prospective hosts to Kaiba-lands. The gaming side of his business was also going strong: promotion after tournament after promotion kept the duel monsters ball rolling, and it was getting faster and bigger: the craze had spread across the entire planet, effectively as fast as Kaiba Corp.

Jounouchi had expected Kaiba to leave Japan and set up HQ in America where his business could spread even more. However, Kaiba in Japan. Sometimes on his way home from University Jounouchi would catch a glimpse of that infamous black limousine parked round the corner from the school's entrance. It always confused him why it was there: Kaiba Corp building was about a kilometer on the other side of the school building.

It was on one such occasion that Jou found out about Honda and Kaiba.

Honda had come up to Jou earlier in the day and asked to meet him by the corner of the road after school. Jou had agreed, a little surprised as Honda hadn't walked home with him since the end of High school.

So, the school day ended, and Jou made his way out to the road in front of school. Honda was already standing on the corner, checking his watch as if Jou was late. Jounouchi briskly walked over. Honda was looking away from Jou, so continued to stand, or rather lean, where he was rather than greet Jou himself. Jou paused for a moment: Honda was leaning on something?

"Honda! Get off that thing! It's Kaibas!" The blonde yelled running up and tugging at Honda until he stood up, "What's wrong with you? You want Moneybags to come out here and beat you up personally?"

Honda shrugged, and was about to reply when an all too familiar face appeared through the now open car door.

"That won't be necessary," He chuckled, "Nice to see you, mutt,"

Jou stared at Kaiba open mouthed, not entirely sure of how to respond.

"Careful, you'll trip over that thing," Honda chuckled. Jou closed his mouth, but continued to stare astounded at Kaiba.

"Take-"

"…a picture, yeah, I get it," Jou growled.

"Actually, "Kaiba replied coolly, "I was going to ask you to take a seat," He motioned to the black leather seats that ran along the entire length of the opposite side of the vehicle. He himself was sat nearest the front of the car, legs crossed and arms folded. For once, he wasn't wearing one of his signature trench coats or even his white suit: he didn't even look fit to go to school in his tight black denim and slate grey metal rock boots. Nonetheless, the shirt he was wearing, which Jou had at first mistaken for a girl's blouse, was reasonably smart: it was mainly Prussian blue with gentle wisps of various shades sparkling in and out of existence in the light. It was long sleeved with large cuffs and a large, stuff collar that was folded down like a normal shirt for once. It appeared to be perfectly smooth, and was a surprising change to his normal attire. That was until he got out of the car, his back to Jounouchi.

Typical Kaiba: a pair of pale blue wings, outstretched, were emblazoned on the back of his shirt. There were tiny diamonds sewn delicately on horns and bones that supported the wings. Jou knew the outfit was too normal to be true…

"Please, get in," Kaiba turned and motioned for Honda and Jou to enter the car.

The pair got in, Jou pausing at the entrance for a moment before sighing and getting in the car, despite the growing sense of foreboding. Honda followed Jou confidently, taking Kaiba's previous position on the seat nearest the front of the car. Kaiba surprisingly didn't seem to mind, and took a seat almost directly between the two of them.

"Jou, where do you live?" Kaiba asked casually.

Jounouchi raised an eyebrow.

"Firstly, that sounds creepy beyond understanding; secondly, I wouldn't tell you if my life depended on it; and thirdly, since when do you call me anything other than Mutt?"

"Jou…" Honda sighed, shaking his head, "Kaiba's giving you a lift, that's all,"

Jou looked to Kaiba. He nodded, grinning sheepishly.

"Now, if it's not too much trouble, I would like to know where to drop you off. That less creepy for you?"

"Ummm…okay," Jou thought for a second: he couldn't let Kaiba drop him off by his dad's flat: the place was one of the most scummy districts in all of Domino, and he would never hear the end of it, "Just drop me by the mall," Jou replied. Honda raised his eyebrows, "Ummm…please?"

"Jou…" Honda said questioningly, frowning. Jou replied with an equally confused frown. Suddenly understanding what Jou meant, Honda nodded.

"So, Jounouchi how is school?" Kaiba asked civilly, leaning back into his chair and making eye contact with Jou. Jounouchi looked to the thick pile carpeted floor.

"Fine, I guess," He shrugged, eyeing an elastic band on the floor of the limo.

"I hear you are studying Food Science: are you hoping to become a chef?" Kaiba asked again casually.

"Maybe…" Jou replied, picking up the rubber band and putting it on his wrist.

"Because there are plenty of catering Jobs available in Kaiba Corp, so if you ever have trouble finding work there is a place for you at Kaiba-"

"Okay," Jou interrupted, his eyes now looking straight into Kaiba's, "What's' the deal? Why are you giving me a lift? Why are you calling me by name? And why the hell are you offering me a job?"

Kaiba managed to hide the fact that he was taken aback quite well. Honda, on the other hand, appeared to be having some sort of fit.

"And you," Jou turned on Honda, "What the hell is going on?"

"My, my…" Kaiba chuckled wryly, "Feeling a little volatile today, are we?"

"Kaiba," Honda said, having composed himself, "Jou, please. Be a little more grateful: you've just been offered a free ride and-"

"I don't care!" Jou yelled, "I'm really happy. Thanks for the lift, Seto," Jou mimicked, "But I really would like to know why,"

"Jou…" Honda growled.

"Hiroto, let me do the honors," Kaiba had outstretched an arm to prevent Honda from getting to Jou, "I will explain," He said calmly, and rather patronizingly as far as Jou was concerned, "Honda and I, as I'm now aware you do not know," he said, raising his eyebrows and turning to Honda briefly, "Developed a friendship in the last few years of our High school education. We have a lot more in common than I could ever have guessed, and, although I hate to admit it, from what he tells me, so do you. He managed to convince me to give you a ride home tonight to see if this was true, but to be honest, you've behaved exactly as I expected. I was hoping since High school you had matured and would be willing to let bygones be bygones and at least attempt to talk with me civilly. I was also vaguely hoping to get to know the real Katsuya behind the mutt, however I can see you aren't ripe for the picking yet. I also believe this is the mall. You may get out."

Jou remained silent as he climbed out of the car: he didn't even say goodbye to Honda, let alone thank you to Kaiba.

Despite the atrocious awkwardness and guilt Jou was now feeling he was glad to have discovered a few things he had been pondering: why the car waited on the corner after school, why Honda hadn't walked home with him since High School, and, something Jou had realized at that very moment, why Honda hadn't seen him outside of school since the start of year.

The fact that Honda had made friends with Kaiba of all people also surprised him: Kaiba had no friends: that was how it was meant to be; how it should be. How could he have time for friends and a multi-national company? Although, he was Kaiba, after all: he could do anything if he put his mind to it, it seemed.

And Kaiba had said something about Honda and Kaiba having more in common than he could have guessed: Jou knew Honda best, and he knew that Honda was nothing like Kaiba. At least, that was the impression he had taken from Kaiba's past actions. But for all Jou knew it could have been a façade in the public eye: for all he knew, Kaiba was practically like a brother to Honda.

But Jou was like a brother to Honda.

Come to think of it, though, his interaction with Honda had been becoming farther and fewer in the last few year of senior high school. In fact, he hadn't had a proper conversation with his supposed "Best friend" since starting University.

Obviously, the two were growing up and growing apart.

"Or something like that," Jou thought aloud in the Bistro.

"Excuse me, sir: we're closing," The bus boy said meekly, "But you paid too much for your drinks earlier, so you can just go,"

"Thanks," Jou replied stonily.

.:'':.

* * *

I do not own Yugioh so Blah.

Oh, just to clear up a potential misconception, the Prologue is not chronologically placed in the story: hope that makes sense...

R& R peoples!

Oh, and Just for Taylor and Tsukiko, New chapter of Puppy Love will be up Very soon nn

C.c


End file.
